


It's not the distance that's the enemy

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Retrouvailles [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, POV Kent Parson, Past Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Sad Jack Zimmermann, breaking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: When Bitty leaves, Jack turns to Kent for support.For the second Pimms Week 2018 prompt, "Long Distance."Warnings:-Jack and Bitty break up in this story, and they don't get back together--at least not now.-Though Jack is not actually going to self-harm in this story, Kent does worry that he will, and that's mentioned in passing.





	It's not the distance that's the enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Though this story takes place after [Old friends, like old swords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011921), reading that one isn't necessary to understand this one.

When Kent’s phone rang, he frowned down at it, expecting an annoying call from a drunk teammate, at best. Seeing the contact displayed, the frown deepened. He and Zimms had been texting occasionally since they talked in Vegas, but it wasn’t as if they were tight. Certainly this was the first time Jack had called. Curious, Kent picked up the phone.

It was clear something was wrong the moment Jack spoke. “Parse? Are you...do you have a minute?” His voice was too slow, too unsure. This wasn’t about hockey.

“Yeah, sure.” Kent rose and opened his sliding glass door, retreating into the cool of his house. He glanced at the clock. “Jesus, Zimms, it’s late for you. Are you OK?” Nudging Kit away from the door with his foot, he muttered, “no, you stay in here, dammit.”

“Wait, is there...do you have someone there? I’m sorry. I shouldn't have called.” Jack was tripping over his words.

Kent snorted. “No. I’m talking to my cat. There’s nobody here.”

“Are you sure? I’m not...I don’t know why I called you.”

Kent rolled his eyes. “Well, you did, and I’m here, and you have interrupted me doing absolutely nothing, so don’t worry about it. What’s going on?”

On the other end of the phone, Jack was silent. Kent shook his head. “OK, why don’t I start. I’m here, in my house, available for you to call me and not talk, because I just got stood up. I am currently drinking and feeling sorry for myself, and you would be doing me a favor to tell me about some problems that aren’t mine. Now you.”

Kent was hoping for a chuckle, or at least one of Jack’s faux irritated inhalations, but it didn’t come. Instead, a broken voice that brought Kent right back to a much worse time in both of their lives. “I...it’s Bitty. Eric. He...he left.”

Kent walked toward the kitchen. If Jack Zimmermann had seriously just called him to cry on his shoulder about his new boyfriend, he was going to need another drink.

“Your boyfriend,” Kent clarified. “That’s Bitty?”

“Yeah. You...met him at the Haus.”

“Right.” It wasn’t as if Kent didn’t know who Jack was talking about. He’d known the minute he saw them together that there was potentially something between Jack and the short, cute blond guy. The guy who reminded Kent more of himself than was strictly comfortable. “OK. What do you mean, he left? He broke up with you?” 

“Yeah.” Jack sighed. He didn’t sound like he was crying, but he didn’t sound far from it. “He said that...he needs to know...needs to have other experiences. He’s so young, and I’m so serious. He said maybe just a break, but...what the fuck does that even mean?”

Kent tipped his head back against the cool kitchen cabinet. “It means he wants to fuck somebody else. At least, in my experience.” There was no use sugar-coating it. “This came out of nowhere?”

“I don’t know. It’s been...hard. We’re just living very different lives.”

“I bet.” Kent had no idea what college was like, but he still remembered his first year in the NHL quite well--the exhaustion, more than anything else. Jack was probably not the world’s most attentive boyfriend. Still, couldn’t the kid wait? Didn’t he see what he’d be missing? Kent shook his head--that line of thought wasn’t going to help him or Jack. “OK, Zimms,” Kent said, switching smoothly into his captain’s voice.”Tell me what you feel like doing right now.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “I feel like smashing something. I’ll probably be sad again later, but right now I just want something to break.”

“I can work with that. Are you at your place?”

“Yes.”

“OK. Go to the kitchen.”

There was a short silence, the sound of feet, and then Jack’s voice again. “OK, I’m in the kitchen.”

“Are you wearing shoes?”

“What?”

“Shoes. Are you wearing shoes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Open the closest cabinet to you. What’s in it?”

The sound of a door opening. “Wine glasses and stuff.”

“Perfect. Take out whatever you can reach and throw it on the floor.”

“What? That’s...they’ll break.”

“Yep, that’s the idea.”

“But it will ruin them. And make a mess.”

Kent rolled his eyes again. “You can clean up the mess. And you’re a fucking millionaire, you can buy more shit. Just do it.” 

There was a pause, and then Kent heard the Jack put the phone down. Then breaking glass. More breaking glass. A choked off sob. Something larger breaking. Another sob. 

A minute or so later, Jack’s voice returned. “Was that supposed to help?”

Kent smiled sadly. “Not really. But it’s the start. And it might keep you from breaking things that actually matter.”

Jack was quiet again. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t know who else to call. I’m not out to that many people, and my friends are Bitty’s friends…”

“It’s fine.” Kent didn’t really know until he said it, but it was fine. It was weird, but it was fine. “I’m a good choice. Who has more experience being dumped than me?

The attempt at a joke fell flat. Never one to give up, Kent kept at it. “After all, I’ve been ghosted by the sexiest rookie in the NHL.”

Jack didn’t laugh, but Kent liked to imagine maybe he smiled. A little bit. “OK,” he finally said. “Now what the fuck do I do?”

“If it were me, I’d get drunk and go out to a club and get laid. But somehow I’m guessing that’s not a direction you’re going to go.”

“No.”

Kent was quiet, There was no way he was going to be able to let this go. He knew what could happen when Jack was left alone with his own mind. He’d seen the aftermath. It was an insane idea, but he done stupider. “Jack,” he said, treading lightly, “do you have someone who can come stay with you tonight? For, say 10 or 12 hours? Does Mashkov still live in your building?”

“Tater? Yeah. But why?”

Kent swallowed hard, and Jack realized before Kent spoke again what he was trying not to say. “I’m not going to hurt myself, Kenny.”

“You’ve promised me that before.” Kent didn’t meant to say it, but once he had, he couldn’t take it back.

“I guess that’s fair.” Jack’s voice was quiet.

“I am going to get on a plane,” Kent said. “But it’s going to be hell for me if I know you’re alone. You called me, ZImms. You can do this for me.”

Jack sighed. “OK. I’ll call him.”

“I’m calling you back and checking once I get to the airport. Don’t lie.”

“OK, Kenny.”

-0-

Kent’s knock was answered by a man who seemed bigger off the ice than he did on it. Kent was used to being the smallest guy around, but Alexei Mashkov was a giant. “Hey man,” Kent said, trying to hold on to his cultivated chill and not show how fucked up he felt about running across the country when Jack Zimmermann called. “I’m Kent.”

“I know you.” The Russian was clearly unimpressed. “Zimmboni not see friends now.” He looked ready to slam the door in Kent’s face.

“I’m...tell him I’m here,” Kent demanded. “He’ll want to see me.” He had no idea if it was true, but he’d come all this way, he certainly had to try.

Mashkov frowned, considering. “Fine. You wait here.”

Jack came to the door with his head shaking, his expression puzzled and...pleased? “I kind of thought you were kidding,” he said. “Come on in.”

Kent shrugged. “Not much else going on.” It was a lie--his manager was barely speaking to him after the schedule reorganization she had to do--but Jack didn’t need to know that.

Mashkov hovered nearby, still looking suspicious. “I go now?” he asked Jack, ignoring Kent completely. “You are OK?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. Thanks so much, Alexei. It was really great of you to be here. I don’t know what got me so sick, but I’m feeling much better.”

_Jesus,_ Kent thought. _That was probably the least believable lie I’ve ever heard._ After the door shut, he told Jack as much, adding, “I know you can lie better than that.”

Jack shrugged and walked toward the living room. “Takes too much energy.”

Kent followed Jack, unsure, but willing to force himself in if Jack wasn’t going to show any basic courtesy. “OK,” he said. “I’m here. Tell me what you need.”

Jack shook his head, disbelieving. “Did you really just fly all the way across the country because I called you?” He looked straight at Kent for the first time since he came to the door. “Why would you do that?”

_Because I love you. Because I’m_ never _not gonna love you._ What Kent said was maybe worse than what he thought. “Because I wasn’t there for you when you needed me before.”

“Jesus, Kenny. That wasn’t on you. You have to know that.”

“Maybe not. But this time, I could be here. So here I am.”

Jack’s smile was a wan, wary thing, but it was there. “Thank you. For coming all this way.”

“You’re welcome.” Kent looked around. They’d walked through the kitchen, he remembered. No broken glass. “Did you get your fill of breaking shit?”

Jack nodded. “That part has passed, I guess. Now I’m just...empty.”

Kent smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. “This is the first time for you, isn’t it? Breaking up? Loving someone and not having them anymore.”

Jack gave him an arch look. “No.”

Kent tried to swallow the way his heart felt. “I meant, having it not be your decision.”

Jack looked as if he wanted to say something and decided against it. “I haven’t...Bitty is the first person I’ve really dated since you.”

Kent was surprised. Jack wasn’t exactly easy to date, but he was a catch in all kinds of ways, and, in Kent’s experience, he’d never been good at being alone. “How long had you been together?” Kent’s mind returned to the night he’d shown up at Samwell, to kissing Jack against the bedroom door. Had he and Eric already been dating then?

“Just since graduation.” 

_Less than a year, then._ Kent nodded. 

They talked, in fits and starts, for hours. Occasionally, Kent got up and rummaged in Jack’s kitchen for drinks and snacks, and Jack dutifully ate or drank whatever Kent put in front of him. Kent learned about how long Jack and Bitty had skirted around one another before Jack finally kissed Bitty, about Bitty’s parents and him not being out to them, about how difficult it had been for them to keep their relationship secret. He learned that Jack had started to come out to his teammates--that part was a surprise. He learned a bit about the problems they’d been having communicating, which Jack blamed completely on himself. Jack kept repeating how great Bitty was, how Bitty was more than he’d ever deserved anyway. The whole thing was heartbreaking, and, more than once, Kent had to go into Jack’s guest bathroom and breathe, force himself to calm down before he returned to the conversation. Jack never talked this much--if this is what he needed, then Kent was just going to have to bear it.

Finally, they were silent for a long time. Kent thought about everything Jack said, and about how much it hurt to know how much Jack loved this Bitty kid. Kent thought he sounded passive-aggressive and immature, but that was probably his jealousy talking. 

“It helps, to talk,” Jack said. “I didn’t know it would. Thank you.”

Kent shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve done this before.” He thought about Jack’s ability to be callous and even cruel if that’s what it took to get what he wanted. This isn’t about you, he reminded himself. He’s doing this because he needs a friend, not because he wants to hurt you. 

“I keep thinking,” Jack said slowly, “about how you must have felt, when I didn’t call back. About how long you tried. I didn’t understand, I don’t think, how hard that must have been for you. I’m sorry. Again.”

Kent looked at Jack for a long time before he answered. “It was a long time ago, Zimms,” he finally said. “Nothing we can change now.” He wanted to say it was OK, that he’d forgiven Jack years ago. He wanted to move forward and close the space between them on Jack’s giant couch. But he didn’t.

“Kenny?” Jack asked. “Can you...stay?” He gestured out the window. It had long since grown dark. “I still don’t want to be alone.”

Kent nodded. “Yeah. I can’t stay past tomorrow night, but sure, I can stay now.”

Jack smiled. “You really did just drop everything, didn’t you?” It looked almost like his about-to-chirp face.

“Yeah.” There was no point in denying it. Maybe knowing he meant this much to someone would make Jack feel better. “This isn’t something I wanted to do long-distance.”

The silence was awkward--they were not, anymore, people who could sit easily in silence. Then Jack moved forward on the couch, closing the space with one shove of his big body. He’d been sitting cross-legged, soft and sad in his track pants and an old Samwell Hockey t-shirt, his feet bare. Kent had his back against the arm of the sofa, his knees pulled up in front of him. Jack was suddenly pressed against them. 

Jack didn’t ask first. He didn’t even hesitate. He just pushed forward again, into Kent’s space, and kissed him. The kiss wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t chaste, Jack’s tongue immediately seeking entrance into Kent’s mouth. Shocked, Kent parted his lips, his instincts taking over from his brain for a few long seconds. Jack’s kiss was different than it used to be, more self-assured. It had been a long time. 

Finally, Kent got his bearings and pulled his head away, just enough to speak into Jack’s ear. “I know you think this will help,” he whispered. “And I really wish it would. But it won’t, Zimms. It will make things worse.”

Jack pulled back, looking at Kent with bright eyes, suspicious. “You want it.” it wasn’t a question. He knew.

Kent nodded. “I never stopped,” he said, letting it be simple. “But you did, Jack. And you can’t erase that because you’re hurting.”

“Then why did you come?”

Kent drew in a deep breathe through his nose, letting it out before he spoke, wanting to be sure of his words. “Because I love you. And if I thought...if I thought you really wanted to be with me, even just for one night, I’d do it. But I know that’s not what this would be. And I can’t be him for you. I can’t do that to you, and I can’t do it to myself.”

Jack moved back to his previous spot on the couch and was quiet again. When he didn’t speak for several minutes, Kent finally said, “do you want me to leave?”

“I really don’t. I’m sorry...that wasn’t fair.”

“It’s OK.” Kent wished he hadn’t given so much of himself away, but it was really nothing Jack didn’t already know. He met Jack’s eyes. He was so tired. “Do you think you can sleep?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe? I’m exhausted.”

“Me too.” Kent hesitated, knowing it was a dangerous line, but made the offer anyway. “I’ll sleep with you, if you want. Just...so you won’t be alone.”

Jack looked surprised, then grateful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They laid in the dark in Jack’s big bed, a space between them, silent. Kent tried to breathe regularly, and eventually he heard Jack joining his pattern. This was an old trick, one they’d practiced a hundred times in the Q. Slowly, Jack’s breathing lengthened, evened. Eventually, he was asleep. 

Kent stared at the ceiling. He could hear his therapist talk about boundaries, about putting himself in positions where he knew he was going to get hurt. This was certainly in that category. Still, he couldn’t say he regretted it. He’d missed Jack, missed him like a fucking phantom limb, for years. And if this was all he could have, being a desperately needed support system for someone too lonely and stubborn and fucked up to find a more appropriate one, then this was what he would take. He fell asleep replaying perfect, no-look passes and pucks sailing into the goal. It might be painful, but it was good to be back on Jack Zimmermann’s line.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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